


Heat of the Moment

by Anonymous



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Weiss is in danger. Yang just hopes she can find her before the Grimm do.(A scene from an AU I'll never write)





	Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> You know those big AU's you come up with in your head over the course of months with no real story but a bunch of loosely-collected scenes and unresolved plot threads? Yeah.
> 
> A lot of world building went into the project this was from, but attempting to shape it into a narrative burned me out before I really got into it. Most of the project is getting scrapped/reworked into something more manageable, but this particular scene was the one I was most looking forward to writing. Sorry I couldn't build it up with 60,000 words of slow burn and deep lore, fingers crossed for next time.

_“Weiss!”_

The sound of her haggard breath and the earth scraping beneath her boots are the only things Yang can hear. Surrounding her on all sides is stone-laden earth; cave walls of smooth, packed dirt held up by wooden supports. The dark threatens to swallow her, the cave’s mouth disappeared behind her long ago, and now the only light comes from herself, from the heat and fear broiling just underneath her skin.

Every few moments she’ll hear a hiss, a signal that another one of the infected beasts of Grimm has reached them. She tries to face them, tries to scare them off-path with bravado and tongues of flame, but they pay her no mind, flitting onward towards their goal. She can see them now, shadows overtaking hers as they glide across the earthen walls, little more than fluttering bats on the edge of her vision. She wants to stop, wants to bring them down one by one in a splatter of sparks and smoke, but she can’t. Not yet.

She doesn’t know these tunnels, only Blake knows these tunnels, and she’s still miles away with the rest of her tribe. The only way to find safety, to find _Weiss,_ is to plod on forward and hope for the best. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple and bounces off her chin, the first of many. She pushes herself to move faster.

The tunnel forks and Yang’s slowed, only for a moment though as she takes in the state of the earth. She forces herself to slow, Blake’s voice in her mind chides her not to act brashly, to _wait._ Another Grimm hisses past her ear.

In her own flickering light she can see that one path is recently trod and the other, abandoned. Her legs hiss in protest as she lurches back into motion, but another turn brings her to another stop, and two more paths. Luckily, before Yang has need to check the dirt, the neatly halved Grimm in the lower tunnel is all the information she needs. Ruby usually tries to go for cleaner kills, but Yang’s willing to bet she was pressed for time.

_So they made it this far. Good._

Yang’s lost track of how long she’s been going. Every inch of ground she gains is indistinguishable from the path she leaves behind and there’s no way to know how much progress she’s making. It feels as though she’s been running for ages, that she should be nearing the other end of the globe soon. Realistically, she’s heard that these tunnels can go on for miles, most of them do in fact, and she’s likely not even a third of the way towards the end.

Another split path that reveals itself from the shadow as she approaches. The room brightens momentarily, the light in the center of it burning hotter for a moment in frustration, but Yang doesn’t need long to think. There’s a moment where she’s glowering at the ground for a hint of where to go, and then there’s the next, when a terrified and pained and _familiar_ scream echoes off the walls from the tunnel on the left. _Weiss_.

Yang launches herself down the tunnel, vigor renewed with the sound of Weiss’ scream echoing in her ears. As she gains ground the air around her takes on a chill, the burning heat of her lungs cooled slightly by the air. There’s a snarl from deeper in the shadows, and an answering hiss of something in an arcane tongue. The deeper in Yang moves the more signs she can see of a battle, spears of ice jutting from the ground, impaled on topped over bodies blurring by as Yang moves past.

She can hear Weiss’ voice more clearly now, strained and taut with effort. Yang opens her mouth to call out to her but she’s breathing too hard to make more than a warbling yell. Another shadow overtakes her, speeding directly towards the sounds of conflict ahead. Yang’s muscles protest, her lungs seize, but she focuses only on bringing one foot down and pushing another forward.

Another few feet in and the tunnel ends, opening up into a wide, cavernous space that almost has Yang tripping over her feet. The tight walls are gone, the cloying space widens into a room stretching so far Yang’s light doesn’t reach its edges. As Yang makes her entrance, fully aglow, a series of round, shiny red eyes turn to greet her. Grimm, dozens of them, fleeing their shadow forms to take once again to the earth, maws open and bony claws raised to strike. Just beyond them Yang can see another row of tunnel entrances with doorways decorated in gilded metals, but the entrances have been walled over completely in mud and ice.

Because in the center of all of them is Weiss.

She doesn’t look up like her foes, who lurch towards her in the next moments of silence. Instead she stands poised, lit from below by glyphs longer than the lengths of her arms, the runes spinning in dizzying patterns as the magic takes to life. In the empty darkness Yang can hear her voice, sharp and focused as she speaks in a language that Yang has never heard. She remembers in a single moment the tomes stacked on Weiss’ nightstand, the notebooks filled with neat, calligraphic notes. She recognizes some of them now as they appear in another summoned circle beneath her feet. Weiss’ eyes open, trained on Yang immediately. “Move!”

Yang’s muscles spring to action as behind her, a wall of ice similar to the ones covering the other exits groans up from under the earth. A frozen solid slurry creates a compact blockade behind her, no doubt to the distain of the Grimm on her trail. Yang’s eyes stay on Weiss, wanting to call out a greeting, a familiarity, anything. She settles for the barest of smiles that tinges Weiss’s lips as Yang follows her order. She cherishes it for the whole heartbeat she has before one of the beats in front of her pounces. Not at Yang, but at Weiss’ still immobile form.

Yang feels her body crash into something cold. Something with matted greasy fur and a boney hide. She swings blindly, and a long spine bends under her blow. Long, twig-like limbs flail and try to grasp her but Yang fights them off. She peels herself off of something that seems to have taken a giant centipede-type form, snapping and hissing at her throat, and just manages to see Weiss on the move. Her eyes search for Yang’s in that moment, expression not entirely different from that in a meeting room.

_“If I’m going to make it out there in the real world, I need to be at least three steps ahead of everyone else.”_

Yang nods, and a shower of sparks go flying as her fist cracks against the Grimm’s jaw.

“Would you get _off_ of me?”

This comes out mostly as a furious groan, a scream to accompany the next fist that slams against the monster’s bony hide. The Grimm screams in surprise and writhes away, but it’s just as quickly replaced with a lizard-like beast with teeth that glint red in the light a moment before it takes its leap.

A line of white-hot pain sears into the meat of her leg just below the knee. The lizard Grimm manages to break skin, and a plume of flame lights the room like a bonfire before Yang’s other boot crunches down on its skull. “Shit. Shit!”

There are dozens of them, writhing and snapping from the shadows. Whenever a ball of flame or a pike of ice fights one off, another two dart in to take their own cheap shots. Those not actively working on tearing the two girls apart are at the walls, claws and beaks chipping away at the frozen dirt. Yang swings and summons the hottest fires she can manage, but her body still aches from the run. She wasn’t at her best when this whole night started and there’s no improving from here.

 _She’ll have to drop the walls._ Yang thinks, stomach tightening. _And then what? Run to Ruby? We’ll hit a dead end. Double back and wait for Blake? We can’t! We’ve got to-_

“Yang!”

Yang looks up at Weiss’ call. She’s worked her way back to the center of the room now, and in every direction there’s a monster that wants to tear her apart, held at bay by spinning runes. In the wavering light Weiss’ eyes meet Yang’s own again. The determination is still there, the unwavering confidence. But there’s something else there, something Weiss likely hoped Yang wouldn’t see. Fear.

“I need you.”

Yang feels something tighten in her chest, and the room brightens to an amber glow. Her body wrenches away from the teeth snapping at her heels, the claws scrabbling to find purchase on her skin, and moves in Weiss’ direction. Weiss swings out of the way of an angry beak trying to take off her arm, and moves her hands to begin summoning once more.

Yang doesn’t know what Weiss is going to do next. She knows by that look it’s going to be something dangerous. She doesn’t need to know more.

Yang doesn’t head for Weiss first. Priority number one is the ursa behind her, the tall, shambling mess of bones and flesh that looms over Weiss even as she stands to her fullest height. In the four strides Yang takes, she feels the temperature of the room plummet, her own surprised gasp coming out in a cloud of fog. She only gets a glimpse of Weiss before she charges headlong into the bear-like monstrosity, but the sight she sees is not one she’ll forget.

Weiss’ eyes are wide open, a chilling, glacial white. Her mouth moves softly with another enchantment, this one syllable-heavy and thick, something ancient. Her back is arrow-straight and her head rolls slightly back, tense, painful. Her hands curl into a wicked shape, fingers jutting and twisting in an intricate dance.

She is terrifying, and she is beautiful.

Another moment passes and Yang’s fists, scalding to the touch, are burying themselves into sickly, oily flesh.

The ursa groans and Weiss gasps, but Yang’s eyes don’t move. She waits for it to try at her with paws, which it does, and then with teeth, which it does, as she twists out of its way and jabs back at it in return. She moves back as it takes another swing, and is firing up to add another punch when a wisp of ice taps her wrist.

Weiss, not half a foot behind her, pulls Yang behind her as she raises her free hand. A spear of ice not unlike one that would grow off the side of Yang’s roof in winter materializes in the cold air, and is sent spinning into the ursa’s jaw. It staggers back, snarling and spitting, and Weiss pulls Yang closer.

Beside her now is a single glyph no larger than a dinner plate, freezing cold air and light spilling from its center. With a command from Weiss, a rapier of ice comes spinning out of the earth, translucent and cold enough to feel from a foot away. A long dagger of smooth ice slopes down to a grip that’s decorated in tight, intricate curves and swirls. Myrtenaster.

Yang knows this weapon, knows its weighted balance and intricate build. She knows it’s made to glide cleanly into the space between a monster’s ribs, and that in the center of its hilt is a fragment of Schnee Corporation Condensed Freeze Storage Dust.

Suddenly Yang knows exactly what’s about to happen. But in that same breath, she realizes she has no idea what’s going to happen next.

With a clean practiced arc, Weiss hurls the rapier at the Grimm, her hand slipping free of the handle as she does so. It lands with a satisfying _shnk,_ the ursa doubling over a second later. Seeing their chance the rest of the Grimm move in, but Weiss is faster than them all. Her hand lands in the center of Yang’s spine and spins her so neither of them are facing the beast. The ursa lurches, claws extended. There are feathers flapping, bones jangling, something snags the lace of her boot.

Weiss’ arms wrap tightly around Yang’s waist.

_Snap._

Ice. The earth beneath her, the air around her, the sweat-soaked clothes on her back that sting as they instantly freeze to her skin. For as much as Yang as sang the praise of fire’s strength and prowess, in that moment it’s nothing compared to the bone-deep chill, the sharp and aching _lack_ of warmth. From behind them, magic hisses out of the ruptured dust in waves, unrelenting cold buffered barely by her body. The ice lashes at her skin, it pops her ears. It threatens to eat her alive.

Weiss holds tight. Her hands twist into fists on Yang’s back, grip only tightening as she, too, is wracked by the ice.

The world around them goes silent in seconds, furious snarls blighted out of existence at the hungry touch of the cold. Yang yearns to move away from the unyielding frost but her body is locked down by the ice. Her muscles scream in protest at every suggestion of moving, and Yang can’t be sure if it’s because her body’s refusing to move, or if it’s frozen solid.

There’s a visceral ache coming from everything, everything, _everything_ happening all at once, and then nothing. Nothing, and then the gentle tease of Weiss’ breath against her skin.

Yang remembers warmth. It pulses through her as it’s awoken, a ripple of heat, a sigh of relief. She feels the wisp of comfort pass through her to the cheek of the girl with her head tucked tightly under Yang’s chin. To this, the girl moves closer, clings _harder_ and the warmth turns to heat, to flame.

Yang’s teeth sink into her lip as drops of fire ride her veins like lay lines. Slowly, the heat reaches her shoulders, her spine, her fists, clenched tight in their place crossed around Weiss’ back.

They stay like that for a moment, tightly locked together as Yang thaws them out. Weiss rests contentedly in Yang’s arms, both of their panicked, erratic breathing evening out as they find calm. The cold is still sharp against her skin, it burns to flex her muscles or to try and move an inch, but this time it’s at least possible. She groans and grits her teeth as her body slowly unlocks, allowing her to balance on a pair of wobbly, unsure legs.

Weiss’ grip goes lax around her waist but she doesn’t let go. Yang looks down at her then, is finally able to do so for more than a heartbeat, and feels her heart squeeze at the sight. Weiss, eyes still shut tight, cheek pressed as close to Yang’s collarbone as she can physically get. Another wave of heat ripples out from her body, this one almost too hot, surely hot enough to turn her face red if it wasn’t already. Despite the moment of calm Yang’s breathing hitches, and she leans down to whisper softly into Weiss’ ear.

“Hey Weiss, is it warm in here, or is it just me?”

The sound of Weiss’ offended gasp is almost more satisfying than the sight of the Grimm graveyard that surrounds them. Weiss, her own muscles still locked down, tries to wrench away from Yang’s grasp to no avail. Yang’s face lights up in a grin and Weiss tries to glare back, but she’s visibly fighting off a smile. Yang’s arms give Weiss another gentle squeeze and Weiss feigns trying to get away, her fists bouncing lightly off of Yang’s chest.

“Yang, oh my god.”

“Ha, gotcha’.”

“Oh my god. I hate you. I hate you, Yang Xiao Long.”

Yang releases her grip and Weiss drops to the floor. After she finds her footing among the ice Weiss lands another empty, weightless punch on Yang’s stomach and turns away. She tries to cross her arms and humph like always but Yang won’t have it, draping her weight over Weiss’ shoulder.

“Aww, don’t say that, Weiss.” She says teasingly, following Weiss’ path as she tries to duck out from under Yang’s weight. “You love me.” 

Weiss pauses for a moment to consider this, her body going stiff, then leaning back into Yang’s hug. She twists in her grip slightly, positioning herself so she can use a hand to bring Yang’s face closer to her own. Yang gapes, unprepared for more close physical contact from the self-proclaimed Princess of Ice. She’s especially not prepared for the quick kiss Weiss lands deliberately on the side of Yang’s mouth.

She says, “Maybe I do.”

Yang falters, sputters, and lifts a hand to her mouth, to the spot that’s radiating heat. Weiss watches her smugly, waiting for a comeback, but all Yang can muster in the moment is a soft, sputtering, “Y-yeah. You… You-”

Weiss laughs her quiet, bell-chiming laugh. While Yang’s face lights up like a carved pumpkin she looks around, laugh fading into a sigh. Around them, the ghoulish remains of monsters sit in stasis, hidden under a thick layer of ice. They’re immobile now, but only time will tell if they’ll stay that way. Her hands twist into a series of grotesque shapes, and the center wall of ice on the far side of the room crumbles.

The fireworks still going off in Yang’s mind falter. Oh that’s right, the life-or-death mission. A small, slender hand reaches for Yang’s in the dim light, chilly fingers finding the spaces between her own.

“You can give me your comeback later.” Weiss says, giving her palm a squeeze. “But first let’s find your sister.”


End file.
